


Mechanical Breakdown

by stilinski_wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mechanic!Stiles, Nomad!Derek, biker!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinski_wolf/pseuds/stilinski_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles works as a mechanic practically in the middle of nowhere, and while on his break one of the hottest men he's ever seen rides up on his bike, needing it to be fixed. </p><p>When Stiles and the man run into each other on Stiles' way back inside from his break, they strike up a conversation that is definitely leading to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mechanical Breakdown

“All right, I’m on break, Max.” 

“‘Kay.” 

Such a short response was normal from the man, so Stiles just stood from the hood of the car he’d been in the middle of fixing and walked off while he wiped his greasy hands off of the rag he pulled out of his back jeans pocket. It was more habit than anything at this point, as the rag was so dirty that all it did was spread the black substance over his hands instead of get rid of it. 

Stiles walked through the door to the office, giving a nod to Isaac who was manning the front desk, who barely gave him a nod in return, too busy playing something or texting someone on his phone, probably, and then went through the front door, squinting as the bright, hot sun beat down on him. 

It was hot, humid as Stiles walked toward the soda machine off to the side, pulling a few dollars out of his pocket as he went, and they were crumpled, withered from being tucked haphazardly into his pocket and left that way for so long. 

The mechanic shop he worked at was in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, and so in front of the shop was a highway that went on an on as far the eye could see for one way, and the other way would only take about fifteen or twenty minutes to get to the closest town, which was where Stiles lived, and beyond that, just desert, dry, dull, hot.

The soda machine didn’t boast the shops image all that much, as it was clanky, old, and the actual soda you could get was in those coca cola type bottles that had been popular in 50’s. 

Stiles bent down, got his change - and it had thankfully given him his change this time - and then his drink, and as he was bending down to get them, he heard the tell tale rumble of a motorbike, loud and obnoxious as it drove down the highway and got closer, closer, closer. 

Stiles sighed as he stood up, put the change in his pocket and turned around, holding the soda limply in his right hand as he slowly leaned back against the soda machine, watching curiously as the bike and the person on it raced down the little stretch of highway before it turned into the lot in front of the mechanics garage. 

Stiles himself was wearing a plain white t-shirt with grease stains all over it, black jeans that Stiles thought looks good on him, but were really fucking uncomfortable in the hot sun, and black boots. It was Stiles’ typical work outfit, which wasn’t much different from his regular outfits he wore when he wasn’t working. 

But the guy on the motorcycle…Stiles didn’t even come close to him.

He was wearing a leather jacket, leather gloves - and didn’t seem to be bothered by the heat - dark blue jeans, black combat boots that weren’t all too different from Stiles’s boots, and a bright blue shirt underneath the jacket. 

And when he took off his helmet, his dark hair was perfectly ruffled, and it looked as though it had been styled before he had put on the helmet.

And his face…Stiles bit his lip, tilted his head to the side as he leaned fully back against the soda machine, soda forgotten in his hand as the guy got off his bike, leaned it against the kickstand, and put his helmet down on it, and then pulled his gloves off and stuffed them in his pocket. 

His face was…he was really fucking hot, okay? Even from a distance Stiles could that he was, with that messily styled hair, the perfectly shaved stubble, the perfectly straight nose, his cheekbones, and his eyes. He couldn’t see the color from where he was, especially with the sun blinding him, but Stiles knew…Stiles just knew they would be captivating, beautiful if he saw them up close. 

Then the guy was moving, and Stiles realized he was going inside, and Stiles moved off the machine, ready to run to him ask what he needed, but then it was too late, and he was inside. 

_Perfect time to take a break, Stilinski,_ Stiles thought bitterly to himself, leaning back against it and finally paying attention to the reason he was standing there like an idiot staring at a hottie in the first place. His soda. 

Grunting as he pulled open the top, Stiles took a long swig, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

Stiles sighed, and let the quiet overtake him, the buzz of sound that only high heat could cause the only sound Stiles could hear. 

It was like that for a few minutes before he heard the door open and the sound of voices. Stiles opened his eyes, saw Isaac and the man walking over to his motorcycle, the man pointing at it as he talked and Isaac nodding. 

The man had taken off his leather jacket, and Stiles swallowed as he looked at his arms, saw the way his biceps flexed as he moved them to point to something on his bike. 

That shirt was uh…very flattering, to say the least. 

Stiles shifted where he stood, let his eyes wander down the guys body, took in it all, noted the bulge that the tight jeans couldn’t quite hide, and Stiles bit his lip as he stared a little too long. 

But on his journey back up the mans muscular frame, he got to his face, and Stiles jolted when his eyes met Stiles across the lot. 

Isaac was talking, saying something to the guy as he moved over to the bike, kicked the kickstand up and took ahold of the handlebars of the bike. 

But he didn’t look away from Stiles, and Stiles found himself lost in his eyes, even from as far away as he was, found his heart rate picking up, his breathing become faster. He felt like the guy was giving him a good fuck with his eyes. 

Then he grinned, tilting his head to the side and giving Stiles an obvious once over, barley moving to the side to let Isaac pass with his bike. 

And Stiles foolishly found himself blushing, but also found that he couldn’t look away, not until the guy looked away when Isaac called back to him, and Stiles barely caught Isaac calling him “Mr. Hale.”

Isaac was polite like that. 

Then Mr. Hale pulled his eyes away and followed after Isaac into the garage, chancing a glance over his shoulder at Stiles before he disappeared from Stiles’ sight. 

And only then did Stiles let out the breath he’d been holding, gasped as he stood up straight, pushed away from the soda machine to get his bearings back. 

He had to take a huge gulp from his soda, as his throat had been feeling particularly dry for some reason. 

=*=

Five minutes later when Stiles was done with his soda, he tossed it in the trash and started walking back toward the garage.

Only on his way there, Mr. Hale came out the front door, and they had to stop short to stop a collision. 

Wide-eyed, Stiles’s mouth dropped open, and words escaped him as he and Mr. Hale stared at each other. 

“Hello.” Mr. Hale said. 

“H-hi.” Stiles stammered, inwardly winced at himself. 

“You work here?” Mr. Hale asked, and he stepped forward, letting the door close behind him, and his step forward brought into Stiles’ personal space.

Swallowing loudly, Stiles nodded. “Yeah, I was just on my break.” 

Mr. Hale nodded. “Needed to get my bike fixed. It’s been sounding a little clunky when I’m riding.” 

“Well, either I or Max will be fixing your bike, so you’re in good hands. I promise.” Stiles said. 

“That’s good to know.” Mr. Hale murmured, and Stiles saw his eyes lower to his lips, felt his heartbeat go even faster. “I’m gonna have to stay in the town over for a for a day or two, though. Maybe three.” Mr. Hale said, and his eyes travelled up and down the length of Stiles’ body again, and Stiles found himself shivering in the blistering heat. 

“Oh, that’s good.” Stiles said, then winced outwardly this time. “I mean, that’s nice. It should only take two days at most to fix your bike.”

“You don’t even know what’s wrong with it yet.” Mr. Hale smirked. 

Stiles open and closed his mouth, felt like he was floundering. “Well, um, most bikes with a clunky sound only take a day or two to fix.” Stiles shrugged. 

“Hmm.” Mr. Hale nodded, and his eyes met Stiles’, held his stare, and Stiles was right, they were captivating up close. “What’s your name?”

“Stiles.” Stiles found himself answering, eyes roaming down to Mr. Hale’s lips, unable to look away from them for a long moment. 

“I’m Derek.” 

And he held out his hand to shake, and Stiles shook it, found himself not looking away from Derek as the handshake went on, and then stopped, but they they didn’t pull their hands away. 

Stiles inhaled deeply as he felt Derek start stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. 

“So um, do you need a ride to a motel in town?” Stiles found himself asking, emboldened by Derek’s lingering touch. 

It had been a long time since Stiles had been laid. 

“That would be nice, thank you.” Derek said, pulling his hand back at last, and Stiles’ hand felt tingly as he let it drop to his side, and he flexed his fingers into a fist at the feeling. 

“I uh, I get off in an hour, or I could ask If I’m really needed right now and get off early?”

And Derek paused for a long moment, looking from Stiles’ eyes to his lips and then up again before he stepped all the way into Stiles’ personal space, the air charged with electricity between them. 

“If you can, that would be great.” And then he smiled, slow, closed mouthed, beautifully. 

And Stiles found himself grinning back at him. 

=*=

“Just-just so you know, I don’t-I don’t usually do this.” Stiles gasped, head thrown back against the wall as Derek kissed down his neck, licking and sucking. 

“Sure.” Derek murmured, pulling at Stiles’s white, grease stained shirt. 

“It’s true.” Stiles breathed heavily, moaned as Derek pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. 

“We can stop if you want.” Derek murmured into his skin, kissing down his chest, nipping at his nipples.

Stiles shook his head, feeling dizzy with lust. “No, don’t stop!” 

“I’m only in town for a day or two, Stiles. Why not have fun while I’m here?” Derek said, stepping back to take off his own shirt. 

Stiles bit his lip, moaned at the site of Derek shirtless, reached out a hand to touch. 

“It has been awhile for me.” Stiles admitted. “There aren’t a lot of options in this town.”

“So.” Derek moved back in, pushed his hips against Stiles’, brought their clothed erections together, and they both gasped and moaned at the feeling. “Should you do the fucking or should I?”

Stiles’ brain short circuited at the thought, and he rasped out, “fuck me,” before kissing Derek hard on the mouth and pushing him toward the bed in the dingy motel room, and they were all harsh breaths, loud smacking sounds and loud moans as they fell onto it. 

They didn’t leave the room all night.


End file.
